


Pack and Mates

by Triskellion



Series: NCIS Home Pack [34]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Episode: s04e15 Friends and Lovers, F/M, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triskellion/pseuds/Triskellion
Summary: AU but following cannon events: A little more insight into the relationships surrounding the case.





	Pack and Mates

When the vacation request came across his desk, Gibbs looked over at Tony in surprise. The long weekend did coincide with a nominal weekend off call—not that that meant much a fair percent of the time—so there was no real reason to refuse the request even with the short notice.

That didn’t mean Gibbs wanted to let Tony go.

Standing up, Gibbs waved for Tony to follow and went to the elevator. Once they were both inside, he smacked the emergency stop. “Long weekend?”

“Ziva come running to you?” Tony asked, surprisingly bitter.

Gibbs frowned, letting his confusion show. “Vacation request. I do still sign off on them.”

Tony looked apologetic. “Right.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s Valentines. I wanted to take Jeanne somewhere nice for a few days.

His heart stuttered in Gibbs’ chest. Jeanne. Right. “Where’d you pick?”

“Bahamas.” Tony’s cheeks pinked a little. “Ziva was giving me shit when I was looking…”

Gibbs shot Tony a pointed look, in part to hide his distress. “Shouldn’t be looking at work then.” Damn, Gibbs didn’t want to let Tony go anywhere, especially not with Jeanne. And yet, he had no leverage to complain. Not after leaving, forgetting. Not after his night with Mann.

“Yeah. I….” Tony rubbed a hand across his neck again.

_Damn it._ Gibbs hit the emergency stop and the elevator slid back up to the bullpen’s floor. 

“Gibbs?” Tony asked as the door opened and Gibbs strode out.

“Buy your tickets,” Gibbs said. He could have said more, should have. Part of him wanted to drop to his knees and beg. He did none of that. He went back to his desk and signed off on Tony’s vacation. And prayed he could forget.

~o0o~

Gibbs slammed a hammer into his work bench. He’d lost one of his tonight. Not one of his team, but John Carson had been working his case, with his team. It could just as easily been Tony taking a bullet to the chest.

Gibbs lifted the hammer again, but his hand was shaking too hard. He dropped the hammer and slid to his knees. 

He could have lost Tony tonight.

He’d considered calling Mann. She’d left a few messages. Made it clear she wanted to hear from him. But he hadn’t. Not since he’d come home and found Tony….

He could have lost Tony tonight. Tony had lost a friend.

Tony would come over. He’d need comforting.

And maybe when he was here, Gibbs would be able to breath.

~o0o~

Tony lay on Jeanne’s couch, pretending to sleep. He was aping it pretty well if he did say so himself.

He knew why he was here. He needed to be around someone after what happened today. Poor John.

Except he didn’t want to be here, where he had to lie and couldn’t tell anyone why he was upset. He wanted to be with Gibbs, where no words were needed and comfort was understood.

Except Gibbs was probably off fucking Mann for his comfort.

Tony let a tear roll down his cheek, just one, and tried to let the illusion of sleep become the reality.

~o0o~

Jeanne gasped as she read the paper over breakfast, covering her mouth and opening her eyes wide.

“Jeanne?” Tony placed a hand on her wrist and tried to peer around the raised paper she was staring at.

“He’s dead.” She set the paper down and met Tony’s gaze. “Last night….”

“Who, Jeanne?” Tony asked, keeping her attention on him when all he wanted to do was look at the paper.

“John,” she whispered.

Giving up on trying to get Jeanne to say more, Tony looked down at the paper, and found the obituary for John Carson, complete with picture. Those eyes seemed to stare right through Tony’s soul. He remembered commenting on how alike Jeanne’s ex sounded to Tony himself, remembered discussing best Sports Illustrated editions, remembered John’s story of how he’d fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.

“Oh God” slipped past his lips.

“I hated that he was a cop,” Jeanne hissed, her hand twisting and latching tight onto Tony’s. “I wanted him to get a desk job, maybe go into corporate security….”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, though he really wanted to throw up. His words from last night echoed through his head. _I don’t want to live a lie._ What the fuck was he doing?

Jeanne took a deep breath and dredged up a small smile. “Sorry. It just surprised me. He… I got an email last night. We were over.”

“Still…” Tony scanned the obit again. The funeral was Friday, after their plane took off. “You should go to the funeral. You two were….” Shit, he didn’t know what to say about them. He knew more about their relationship from John than from Jeanne.

“No.” Jeanne shook her head and smiled the smile that said she loved him. “We were over. I’ve got my closure. We’re going to the Bahamas.”

~o0o~

Gibbs and Tony met in the elevator the Monday after Tony’s vacation. They stood side by side in silence as the familiar elevator as it rose toward the day ahead.

Finally, one floor before their destination, Gibbs hit the emergency stop. He held out a small pamphlet. “I told Carson’s team you were called away on undercover work but sent your regards.”

Tony glanced at the pamphlet. It was from John’s funeral. “Thanks, boss.” The words caught in his throat. 

Gibbs hand cupped Tony’s cheek. His thumb ran across Tony’s cheekbone, his little finger traced Tony’s jawline. His blue eyes looked… sad. Lonely. Loving? Maybe.

Gibbs stepped back and hit the emergency stop. The elevator jerked back into motion and a moment later the doors opened. Gibbs strode out, coffee in hand, as though the last minute never happened.

Tony tucked the pamphlet from John’s funeral in his coat pocket and walked to his desk. “Back to work,” he hissed under his breath.


End file.
